


I just can't look, it's killing me

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Homophobia, M/M, Relationship Tension, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Work, Sexual Content, Some Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: This is based on a prompt from the RNM Kink Meme:After the shed incident, Alex leaves Roswell rather than joining the military. Lacking resources, he engages in sex work to make ends meet.Michael finds out.
Relationships: Alex Manes/Other(s), Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 49
Kudos: 204





	I just can't look, it's killing me

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt on the RNM Kink Meme. Please heed the tags.

Michael’s uncomfortable.

This isn’t his place, this isn’t his scene, and a beer – one fucking Bud Light – costs $8, plus tip. But it was Isobel’s birthday, and Isobel gets what she wants.

Of course, that also means it’s his birthday, and Max’s too. Not that those details matter.

Isobel must sense his displeasure, because she turns away from the attractive man sitting with them at the high top table and glares at Michael.

“You look like you have a fucking rain cloud above your head,” she hisses, voice low, “and I am _trying_ to have a good time.”

Michael scoffs a bit. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll give you a good time,” he says, eyeing the guy next to her.

Isobel rolls her eyes. “Gross. Can you go somewhere else, please?”

Michael dramatically heaves himself off his stool, grabs his beer. “Fine. But I’m charging my next drink to your tab.”

“Thank you,” Isobel mouths, before turning back to her new “friend.”

Michael tips his head back and takes down the rest of his drink. With a sigh, he leans on the bar and waits to catch the bartender’s eye. It’s taking fucking forever – too many complicated cocktails are getting ordered here, he thinks. Idly, he begins to scan the other patrons and…

Holy shit. Holy _shit._

It’s… it’s definitely him. It… it has to be, right? Unless there’s somehow an Alex clone walking around L.A., looking fucking fantastic, dear god.

He’s on the other side of the big wraparound bar. He’s tan, hair’s styled, clothing is nice looking, stylish. Michael feels self-conscious. He takes a deep breath and walks the perimeter of the bar, finally coming to a rest right behind Alex. He allows himself a moment to stare, at the way his hair curls just a little at the nape of his neck, at the way the muscles of his back look through the fabric of his thin shirt…

“Alex?”

And he watches those very same muscles tense up. Other than that, there’s no response.

Huh.

He tries again.

“Alex? Alex Manes?”

He watches Alex breathe, twice, before he sits up tall in his chair and slowly turns around.

The suspicion, the wariness on his face dissipates the instant he sees Michael, replaced by something akin to wonder.

“Oh my god, _Michael!_ ” And Alex’s eyes are wide, roaming all over him.

“Yeah,” Michael says, feeling stupidly nervous. “Yeah, man, it’s me.”

And at that, Alex pushes up from his seat and stands, pulling Michael into a quick hug, and is Michael imagining that Alex’s hand lingers on his back just a little longer than is strictly friendly?

Alex sits back down and shakes his head. “My god… I can’t believe it.” Michael is pleased to see that Alex is still looking him over… less pleased when Alex’s gaze finally settles on his hand, and his smile fades. He swallows, hard, and leans back in his chair a bit. Away from Michael. “It’s… it’s been a long time. How have you been?”

Michael shrugs. “Can’t really complain.” There’s a pause, and they’re both just _looking_ at each other, and Christ, Michael thinks there’s still something here… “Still in Roswell.”

Alex’s brow furrows at that. “Really? I – “

“Brent?”

Alex’s mouth is suddenly a thin little line. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, before turning around in his chair. “Robert!” he exclaims, and he’s suddenly looking delighted. “It’s great to see you.” He pats the man on the chest, letting his hand linger. Michael looks down. Is this… is this a boyfriend? A partner?

Michael sneaks a glance up at the guy. He’s… not what he would have pictured, not who he’d imagine Alex would choose. He’s older, quite tan, well-dressed.

In other words, he’s not Michael. But it’s been… god, it’s been five years. Five years since Alex dropped off the face of the goddamn earth. How the hell could Michael know _anything_ about what Alex wants anymore?

Alex’s eyes flick to Michael, then back to Robert. “Listen, just let me pay for my drink, here, and I’ll be up to join you. What’s the room number?”

Robert waves a hand. “Oh please, just put it on my tab.” Robert motions to the bartender, who immediately comes over. Huh. Apparently not _everyone_ has to wait, Michael thinks darkly. He’s suddenly very aware of Robert’s eyes on him, looking him over. “You bring a friend?” he asks Alex.

And… it’s the way he says it. And the way Michael sees Alex bite back a half-grimace before letting out a light little laugh. “No, no, not today, right?”

Michael watches as Robert gets the check, begins to sign for it. Alex turns to him. “I… um, I have to go,” he murmurs, voice low. “I have a work thing, but – “

“How long is it?” Michael asks. “I’ll, I’ll wait for you here, in the lobby.” Alex is just staring at him. “Um, if you want?”

Alex bites his lip. “Hour or two?”

Michael nods. “I’ll be here.”

And then Robert’s clapping Alex on the back, and Alex is smiling up at him in that overly bright way, and they’re gone.

***

He doesn’t know how shit like this works. The entertainment industry, or… whatever it is Alex is doing. Maybe this guy’s his agent, and they’re going over scripts or something. God knows Alex is attractive enough to be an actor. Or, or maybe this has something to do with music – writing it, playing it. There could be a lot of explanations.

And then Michael sees Alex, and he’s pretty, pretty sure he knows _the_ explanation.

Alex still looks great. So good. But Michael… Michael sees him, and he _knows…_

His lips are swollen. His face is flushed. His hair’s more disheveled than it was before.

And Michael knows.

Alex sees him, then, and crosses to him, gives him a smile. It looks a little tired, to Michael. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Michael says.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

***

They end up at In-N-Out Burger.

Michael watches Alex as he looks over his fries, chooses the longest one, and dips it in his milkshake. And at that, something unclenches in his chest. Even fancy L.A. Alex still likes this gross shit.

_Hooker Alex. Prostitute Alex. Whore Alex._

_Shut up. Stop._

But he can’t stop thinking about it. He steals a glance at Alex. Whatever he’s doing, it must be pretty high-end. Like, that was an expensive place. That guy, Robert, looked expensive. Hell, _Alex_ looks expensive. Michael blows out a breath, takes a bite of his burger. And, and it might not be that. It might not. Like, maybe this is just the sort of shit that happens in L.A., right?

And at the end of the day, does it matter?

There was a time years ago, a few agonizing weeks when he thought Alex was dead, murdered by his father and dumped somewhere in the desert. He’d disappeared without a trace on his 18th birthday. The last time Michael actually _saw_ Alex, he was covered in his own tears, snot, and Michael’s blood. Isn’t _anything_ an improvement, compared to that?

A few months after he disappeared, Michael’d gotten a text from a blocked number.

_I’m okay._

_Who is this?_ Michael had replied, frantic, thinking of only one person.

Five years, he’d waited for a response that never came.

“Um…” Michael starts. “How are you?”

Alex pauses mid-bite and looks at Michael, a strange expression on his face. “I’m…” he starts. “I’m okay.” He gives a little half-smile. “Can’t really complain,” he says, parroting Michael’s earlier words back to him. It makes Michael smile, a little.

“That’s good, man.” He has so many questions. So many. He forces himself to be casual. “How long have you been in L.A.?”

“Came here right after I turned 18.” Michael nods. “What brings you out here?”

Michael leans back in his chair a bit. “You remember Isobel Evans, from school?” Alex nods, and his face closes off, just a little. “It’s her birthday. I’m here on a vacation with her and her brother, Max.”

“Oh. Cool,” Alex says, though he doesn’t sound super enthused. “How long are you here?”

“Long weekend,” Michael replies. “Got in today and leave Monday.”

“Nice,” says Alex. There’s a moment of silence, and then he speaks, not looking at Michael as he dips another fry in his milkshake. “So, um, are you and Isobel…?” Michael’s staring at him, and Alex’s face starts to go a little red. “Or, um, I guess, you and Max…?”

Michael nearly spits out his fry. “Oh no, holy shit, _no_.” And he doesn’t know what it is about Alex, but he leans in and starts talking. About shit he _never_ talks about. “You remember, growing up, when we were probably about seven, there were those three kids found wandering around the desert, naked?”

Alex nods, slowly. “Yeah, now that you mention that, I do think I remember.”

“Don’t know if you ever knew this, but, um, that was me. And Iz. And Max. So.” Michael shrugs. “They’re pretty much my brother and sister. Like, that’s how we’ve always thought of it.”

Alex is wide-eyed. “But… but you weren’t in school with us till middle school.”

“Yeah, well, they were adopted. I wasn’t. Kinda bounced around for a while till I landed in Roswell again.”

Alex is frowning a little. “Wow. I never knew that about you.” Michael has to bite back a scoff. _There’s a lot you don’t know about me…_ “That sounds really tough, Michael.”

“Yeah, it was.” Michael clears his throat. “But, to answer the question I _think_ you were trying to ask earlier, I’m single. Very single.”

Alex laughs at that. “I was real subtle, huh?”

Michael chuckles. “Not so much.” His mouth twists a little. “Um, how about you?”

And Alex’s smile drops, at that, and he looks at Michael. Really looks. “I… I’m not dating anyone.”

Michael nods, slowly. “Okay.”

Alex picks up his burger, as if to bite it, then puts it back down. Takes a deep breath. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “I’m trying to think of ways to lie to you right now, but I don’t want to. You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined seeing you again, Michael.” He purses his lips. “Just… just didn’t think that when I finally did, you’d sort of catch me in the middle of a job.”

And Michael exhales, at that. “Yeah…”

“Yeah...” Alex nods. He looks down, then, at his fries, studying them.

“How long?” Michael asks.

“Pretty much since I first got out here. It’s…” Alex bites his lip. “Honestly, it’s not bad. Like, it’s not what people think. I mean, some of it is, but…” He trails off.

“Are you okay, Alex?”

And Michael knows, almost immediately, that it was the wrong thing to say. Alex fixes him with a long, hard look. “More okay than I ever was back in Roswell.” He looks away, then, and his voice is cold when he finally speaks. “But I can see how other people might see it differently.”

“I work in a junkyard,” Michael suddenly blurts out. “Like, I fix cars there, but a lot of the time I’m just hauling around garbage. And in summer I work at Foster’s Ranch. Literally shoveling shit. So.” He shrugs. “No judgment here, man.”

And at that, Alex slumps in his seat, his face a strange mix of relief and confusion. “I… what?” A strangled little laugh escapes him. “God, Michael.” And then he looks right at him. Bites his lip a little. “Was gonna ask if you wanted to go out after this, but… um, now I’m wondering if it wouldn’t be better just to go to my place?” Michael’s dumbstruck. “Um, if you want. It’s quieter. And I feel like we have a lot to –“

“Yes.”

***

Michael’s never paid for sex before.

And, of course, it’s not like he’s _paying_ , now, but he _is_ having sex with a…

Alex. He is having sex with Alex.

They’ve both gotten through these past five years alive, mostly whole, and here they are, together. It’s unbelievable, something Michael hasn’t dared wish for.

But here they are.

Alex’s head is on his chest, right over his heart. His hand is running up and down his torso, his chest.

“You grew up.”

“Hmm?”

Alex laughs a little. “Chest hair. Stubble. Muscles,” he says, teasingly squeezing a bicep.

“It’s all that shit-shoveling,” Michael murmurs with a quick flex. That teases another laugh out of Alex and, Christ, Michael loves that sound. Loves that he’s actually here, that this is happening.

Alex’s laugh fades away, and he looks thoughtful. “Speaking of, um, the shit-shoveling… why did you go back? To Roswell?”

“Back?” Michael asks, confused.

“Yeah,” Alex murmurs, still tracing his hand over Michael’s body. “After school, why go back there? I figured you’d be in some lab or something. Did, did things not work out?”

Alex is looking at him so earnestly, and Michael feels suddenly embarrassed, like he’s let him down. But then he thinks about it, and Alex… Alex has been so open with him. Shouldn’t he return the favor?

“Never went to school, Alex. Never left Roswell.”

And Alex exhales deeply at that. Shakes his head. “Damn it…” he whispers. “I guess… I guess neither of us are doing what we thought we’d be doing, at 17.”

“No,” Michael says, willing his voice to stay steady. “Both got dealt a shit hand, that’s for sure,” he says, tightly. “Um, literally, in my case.”

Alex is frowning. “Was it, was it because of your hand? Why you never went to school?”

Michael looks at him, sharply. “No,” he says emphatically. “No, not because of the hand. It was… family stuff, actually. Iz, she was having some health problems, and Max and I both, we decided it would be best to stick around, keep an eye on her.” Michael’s quiet a moment. “Haven’t really crossed paths with your dad. Thank god.”

And at that, Alex’s hold around him gets a little tighter. “You know I changed my name?” he says.

Michael licks his lip a bit, turns to look at his face. “That, um… that guy. He called you Brent.”

Alex nods a little. “Yeah. Brent Harris. Did it legally and everything. It’s, um, useful, for my line of work. But mostly it was to make it harder for my dad to track me down.”

Now it’s Michael who tightens his hold. “What,” he falters, “what _did_ he do to you, Alex? I…” Michael exhales, shakily. “I thought he fuckin’ killed you. I really did. You were just gone, and I – “

Fuck. He’s crying. He… he didn’t mean to get this emotional about it, didn’t expect it. But Alex is _here_ , and he’s pressing kisses to Michael’s temple, running a hand though his hair.

“Hey,” he’s whispering. “Hey, Michael… It’s okay.” Another kiss, then a sigh. “He was gonna make me join up.”

“Join up?”

“The military.”

Michael sniffs. “Fuck. You? In the military?”

“Yeah,” Alex says. “I just… I just couldn’t. Snuck out to 380 the morning of my 18th birthday and hitchhiked my way to L.A.” His head drops then, heavily, onto Michael’s chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anybody. Didn’t want anyone in dad’s crosshairs more than they already were.” He’s stroking Michael’s hand, now, running his fingers over the palm, the ruined joints. “You never got any treatment for it.”

Michael shakes his head, just a little. “How would I have paid?” He swallows. “And what would I have said?”

Alex nods. “I, I get it. Just wish it never happened.”

And that door, that wish… is just too much for Michael, right now. So he kisses Alex, hard, and lets things happen.

***

“Mmmm, morning handsome.”

Michael whirls around at the sink. There’s a… gorgeous woman staring at him, looking him up and down. She looks vaguely familiar.

“Who are you here with?”

“Um…”

“He’s with me,” Alex says brightly, exiting the bathroom and patting Michael on the back.

She smiles. “Damn, Brent, where’d you meet this one?”

Alex looks at Michael and smiles, a bit. “Middle school, actually.”

Her eyebrows arch. “Oh my god, what?” She looks at Michael again. “Where the hell did you grow up, Sexville?”

“New Mexico,” Alex says drily. “You knew that.”

“Brent _never_ talks about growing up.” She flops down on the couch and Michael sees Alex’s smile falter, just a little. “I’m Adelaide, by the way.” And as soon as she says her name, Michael realizes that he’s seen her before. Um… online…

“Nice to meet you,” he says, extending a hand. She takes it and pulls, and he falls onto the couch beside her with a laugh.

“That’s better,” she says, smiling. “So, tell me, what was Brent like in school?”

“Well,” Michael starts. “He definitely went through kind of an emo phase. Piercings. Guyliner. He was a rebel.” He pauses, grins at Alex. “Hot as fuck, too.”

Alex colors a bit, and Adelaide laughs. “Well, some things never change.” She claps Michael on the leg. “I like this one, Brent. It’s about time you had some fun.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Noted, Adelaide.”

“You work today?” Adelaide asks, casually.

“Yeah, um, a nooner at the Chateau.”

Adelaide arches an eyebrow. “Well la-di-da, aren’t we fancy?”

Alex looks down, then at Michael. “Um, if I had known you were gonna be in town…”

“Nah, no worries, man,” Michael says quickly, even if a part of him _hurts_ if he thinks too much about what Alex’s job, at noon, might entail. “Max and Iz are probably wondering what happened to me.”

“Yeah,” Alex says. They’re quiet then, until Adelaide finally jumps in.

“Dear god, really? You know we are actually _out_ of middle school now, right guys? You’re getting together again tonight, aren’t you?”

“Um, if you _want_ to,” Alex says, looking a little nervous.

And Michael, shit, Michael would do just about anything to see him again, hold him again, just fucking _talk_ to him again.

“God, yes.”

***

They’re supposed to go out, that night, with Adelaide. Big party downtown.

They don’t.

“Oh fuck,” Alex is panting as Michael takes him further down his throat, runs a hand over his thigh. His hands are in his hair now. “I’m gonna – “ and Michael nods, just a little, and takes him deeper. And then Alex is arching, up, and –

“Oh my god, Michael,” he’s saying, then, and he’s pulling Michael up for a kiss, a smile. And any doubts Michael’d had about his own inexperience (and wasn’t _that_ a trip?), about whether or not this would even _mean_ anything to Alex are put to rest.

***

They’re at a little diner. Michael is studiously ignoring texts from Isobel that are blowing up his phone.

He pops a piece of bacon in his mouth, looks at Alex. “Um… this weekend has been really nice.”

Alex smiles a little, and it looks almost shy, to Michael. “Yeah. I… I still can’t quite believe that you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Michael says. “Wish… wish I didn’t have to go back yet, honestly.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. He looks at his plate, then back up at Michael. “Being out here, and, um, living the life I do, it’s… it’s hard sometimes. Just, like, isolating, I guess.” He glances around the diner. “With, um, the work I do, the services I provide… um, I get it if that’s not something you’d really want to, like, take on in a serious way. But, if you were ever back in L.A. and wanted to, I dunno, have fun like we did…” he trails off.

Michael stares at him, and he suddenly feels very sad, but very brave. “I _hope_ that what you’re trying to say is that _when_ I come back to L.A., to see you and spend time with you, that you’ll want to see me and spend time with me, too.” Alex’s face goes slack, and Michael shakes his head. “God, Alex, I never thought I’d see you again and now…” he reaches across the table, grabs his hand, “I just want to see you as much as I can.”

And Alex, Alex is holding on so tightly.

***

They text.

They sext.

Unsurprisingly, Alex is really fucking good at that, and Michael knows he has to kind of work through his mixed feelings about that. Like, just enjoy the ride and trust that this is something real for Alex.

Because for Michael, this is as real as it fucking gets.

***

They work out a system.

Every other month, Michael drives out to L.A., spends a long weekend. It usually takes him about 16 hours, especially if he hits it at the right time (god damn L.A. traffic). Then the other month, he and Alex will meet up somewhere, anywhere that’s a short drive from Roswell and a direct flight from LAX. El Paso. Albuquerque. Santa Fe.

It’s… it’s so good.

So good and not nearly enough, but it _works,_ and Michael…

Michael knows he’s hopelessly gone.

***

It takes four months for Isobel to catch on.

She’s screeching into the junkyard. It’s almost 9pm, and Michael is suddenly terrified that something has gone very, very wrong.

“ _There_ you are!” she says.

He slides out from under the truck he’s working on. He’s been picking up as much work as he can from Sanders, who seems thrilled. He just… he needs money, for gas, for his now-regular drives out to L.A. For the occasional meal he buys for Alex. Yeah, for goddamn dates. He’s _dating._ He thinks…

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Hello to you too, Iz.”

Her hands are on her hips, head cocked. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. First off, you don’t answer your phone for a whole damn weekend, so I figure you’re in lock up, or fucking some random.” Michael flinches. “But I talked to Max, and he hasn’t seen you either. So I say to myself, ‘I’ll give him till Monday night.’ So I go to Foster’s Ranch, and nothing. Then I go to the Pony, and Maria fucking DeLuca, who hates my guts, says she hasn’t seen you in _weeks_ and actually asks if you’re okay. So I came here. At 9pm. And you’re working. So yeah, what the _fuck_ is going on with you, Michael?”

He sighs deeply, really debates what to say, then settles on the truth. “I’m seeing someone, Iz.”

Her eyes widen. “I knew it! I told Max, I _told_ him.” She looks triumphant, and Michael wonders if she actually has money riding on this. “Who is she? Would I know her?”

Michael swallows. “Uh, actually, I met _him_ in L.A.”

Isobel freezes. “What?”

Michael laughs a little. “Yeah. When we were there for our birthdays. I…” he bites his lip a little, “I really like him, Iz. We’ve been trying to meet up once a month. That’s where I was this past weekend. With him.”

Isobel has a look of wonder on her face. “Michael…” she murmurs, and she’s suddenly pulling him in for a hug. He sinks into it, just enjoying it. “I’m, I’m really happy for you. He’s good to you, right?”

“The best,” Michael says.

***

He regrets ever telling Isobel. 

“Look alive, Michael.”

They’re at the baggage carousel at LAX, and Isobel is looking every inch the socialite, except for the fact that she’s interacting with Michael.

They only fly if Isobel’s with them, can never be 100% sure if the security measures are going to pick up some wonky biometrics. Michael’s been complaining for years that they should run some tests of their own, actually fucking figure out how they’re made, how it’s different from humans, but Isobel and Max have been resistant.

“Listen, if you hadn’t packed so much goddamn luggage, for a weekend trip, maybe I’d be moving a little faster.”

Isobel rolls her eyes. “Oh, spare me. If only you had some way to lighten the load.” She looks at him pointedly.

Michael rolls his eyes back at her, but does as she suggests, subtly using his powers to help with the suitcases. It does help, he thinks begrudgingly.

He should have known, honestly, that Isobel would try to worm her way into an L.A. trip with him. When he’d told Alex, he hadn’t been happy.

_“Yeah, so my sister’s coming with me to L.A. this time.”_

_“What? Isobel?” The alarm was evident in Alex’s voice. “Wait, does she know about us?”_

_It took Michael aback. “Would it be so bad if she did?”_

_“Yes. Fuck,” Alex muttered, and Michael could tell when he realized how that sounded, because he sighed, so deeply. “It’s just… I’m never going back to Roswell, you know that, right?”_

_“Yeah, of course, no one’s asking you to – “_

_“And she’s a fucking event planner. Like, you’ve told me she does veterans’ fundraisers and shit… fuck…”_

_And now Michael was starting to get it. “We, we can trust Izzy, Alex.”_

_“Can we?” Alex sighed. “I know she’s your sister, or whatever, but the Isobel Evans I remember was kind of a bi- kind of a, a gossip queen, Michael.” He laughed, then, a dark little sound. “And this would be the scoop of the year, wouldn’t it? Jesse Manes’ youngest ran off to L.A. and is working as a gay hooker.”_

_Michael flinched at the harsh words, the harsh tone. “Alex.”_

_“My dad can’t know I’m out here, Michael,” Alex said flatly. And then, suddenly, he laughed again, half-hysterical, and Michael… Michael was worried. “But you know what, it probably wouldn’t surprise him! I mean, isn’t this exactly what he thought would happen to me, exactly how he thought my life would turn out if I embraced my ‘perversions?’ God_ damn _it I’m fucked up.”_

So they’d decided that, for this trip, Isobel could do her own thing.

It’s not sustainable, Michael knows. Isobel’s too nosy. But he’s hoping that, for this time at least, she can fill her time with other diversions.

“Weren’t you supposed to have a date this weekend? With the hot lawyer?”

“Noah?” She nods. “Yes, but I can always reschedule that. Not every weekend I get to go to L.A. with my adorable little brother.”

“You have no idea if I’m your little brother. I could be years older than you, for all you know.”

She shrugs.

***

They’re in Alex’s room again, Alex’s bed, and everything is quiet. They’re in their sacred space, that hushed calm that always seems to descend after they’ve had sex, before they’ve transitioned back to real life.

“Before we met up again, I… I was starting to think I couldn’t feel this way, Michael, that something was wrong with me, that I couldn’t have this,” Alex is saying as he strokes Michael’s face. “It’s just… it’s been so long since I felt like this.”

“Yeah,” Michael nods, understanding. “For me,” he starts, “for me, it’s been five years.”

And Alex’s face, it just softens. “Yeah, Michael… yeah.”

***

It’s 1am, and Michael hits the mattress hard.

“Well, fuck me.”

“Again?” Alex asks, a teasing smirk on his face.

Michael’s just tried poppers for the first time, and holy fuck… “Probably shouldn’t, at the moment, Manes.”

Alex shakes his head. “Nah, probably shouldn’t. I was just kidding.”

“Mmm,” Michael murmurs. “That was something, alright.” He pulls Alex down for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. The way he likes. And then… “Um, you use those a lot?”

Alex pulls back a bit, looks at Michael with a bit of sharpness. “Here and there, yeah. Depends on the job, how I’m feeling.”

Michael just nods.

“I try to stay away from other shit, though.” Alex seems to be debating something. “Like, how much do you really want to hear about it?”

And that’s the question, isn’t it? Because Michael _wants_ to know Alex, every damn thing about him, but he knows that some of the shit that’s an everyday part of his life would probably hurt him. He reaches out for Alex’s hand. Squeezes. “I want to know whatever you want to tell me.”

And it must be the right thing to say, because that suspicious glint is gone, replaced by what looks like… appreciation, maybe? Affection?

“When I was first starting out, I didn’t have very good boundaries. At all. I kind of learned quickly, though, the kind of stuff I’d do. And not do.”

Michael looks at him, tries to keep his breathing even. “What, um, what won’t you do?”

Alex’s mouth twists a little. “Any, any violent stuff. Even, um, BDSM, it’s not for me. I won’t do that anymore. And if someone starts getting aggressive with me, I’ll just shut it down, soon as I can. Get out of there.” Michael must look alarmed, at that, and Alex reaches out to him. “Hey,” he says, soothingly, “that’s really rare. Like, super rare, especially now. Honestly, the biggest threat these days is law enforcement, trying not to get into any legal trouble. The law’s so backwards on this shit,” he mutters. “I also, um, I don’t do any breath play. My dad, when he was mad, would…” He looks away. “Well, you know.” He clears his throat. “No shit, piss, vomit, that sort of thing. No filming. Toys need to be approved in advance. I need to have a heads up about any additional parties, too. Condoms for any anal.” His tongue’s working in his mouth, and he looks thoughtful. “I’ll take poppers sometimes, like I said. Drink a little. Smoke a cigarette, or a joint, if the client wants that. Always carry some Viagra on me, just in case. But that’s about it. I try to stay away from other shit. I’ve seen too many people get really fucked up, with the drugs.”

Michael nods at him, and Alex settles between his legs, back to his chest. “So, tell me about _your_ job.”

Michael takes a deep breath. Another one. Holds Alex close to him and tries not to think about how he figured out all those limits… And when he feels ready, he makes himself smile, and he starts talking. “Kinda wish I could give Sanders a list like that,” he says, finally. “No Ford fucking F-250s. You know you have to remove the whole fucking cab first? I don’t know what they were thinking. And you know Roswell… they love their trucks…”

***

“I met someone.”

Michael raises his eyebrows.

“He’s a lawyer.”

Michael scoffs. “You certainly have a type.”

“An entertainment lawyer, Michael.” Isobel gets a bit of a far-off look in her eyes. “He… we just connected, and it was amazing. I was hoping to introduce you, but you were off fucking the whole weekend.”

“Iz – “

“No,” she sighs, “it’s okay. Just meant I had the room to myself.”

“ _All_ to yourself?” Michael asks. “The whole weekend?”

Iz winks at him, then, and Michael nods. Smiles.

“Get it, girl.”

***

Ninety-five percent of the time, it doesn’t bother him.

Ninety-five percent of the time, it’s just Alex’s job. What he does for money.

And Michael knows, intellectually, that it’s a lot like any other job. Hell, Michael has good days and bad days at work. Nice clients and asshole clients. People that are so grateful and people that are condescending shitheads. He knows that fixing cars for money is different from when he’s tinkering with them just for his own enjoyment, just for the hell of it. He and Alex, they both provide services. They both charge by the hour. And hasn’t Michael winked at a customer for a better tip? Smiled at DeLuca to get her to relax his bar tab? Like, it’s not _that_ different…

But that other goddamn five percent of the time…

“ _What are you doing tonight?”_

_“Eh, think I’ll just go to bed early. I’m a little sore.”_

_“Hey, you coming down with something?”_

_“Nah, my throat’s just a little fucked.”_

_“Want pizza tonight?”_

_“Better not. Long day tomorrow.”_

_***_

Isobel starts coming with him to L.A. more often, which means that he can fly there, which means he has more time with Alex.

Usually they’re fucking within minutes of him arriving, but today is different.

“Hey,” Alex says, casually. “You mind if we watch a movie or something first? Just chill out a little? It’s been a long week.”

Michael’s a little surprised, but totally willing. “Sure,” he says, and he kisses Alex, feels him relax in his arms.

“You, you really don’t mind?” Alex asks, and Michael frowns.

“No,” Michael says. “Of course not. We could spend the whole weekend playing fucking Yahtzee and I’d be happy, long as you were there.”

And Alex, Alex actually turns away at that. Turns his face away, and Michael’s confused. And then he realizes. Alex is crying. He’s… he’s fucking crying.

“Shit, Alex, what’s wrong? Did I… did I say something?”

“Ah, fuck,” Alex mutters, and wipes at his eyes with his forearm. “No… no. You, you always seem to say the _right_ thing, Michael, the thing that just catches me completely off guard, damn.”

Michael licks his lip, tries to catch Alex’s eye. “Hey,” he says, voice soft. “I… I know I’m not always real serious, but I am right now. I like you, Alex. I _really_ like you. I’m not in this for the sex.” He pauses. “I mean, not _just_ the sex, you know. The, uh, the sex is… I mean, you have to know it’s, like, really good, right?” Alex laughs, at that, and Michael relaxes a little. “Yeah, well, I really like you, okay?” He looks down. “I’ve liked you since you were 17 and right now, Alex, even when we’re apart, there’s… there’s no one else. Okay?” And Alex is staring at him with eyes that are so, so wide. “So let’s Netflix and chill, alright?”

They’re changing for bed when Michael sees Alex’s back. He breathes in, sharply, and Alex quickly pulls on a t-shirt.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low.

Michael swallows, hard. Tries not to clench his fists. “Does it hurt?”

Alex sits down heavily on the bed. “A little.”

Breathe, just breathe. In and out. “Want to talk about it?”

Alex looks at him. “Not really. But…” He’s quiet for a minute. “It was a party. I, I hate working the goddamn parties. It’s just… just harder to control. Always people there that don’t, don’t know what they’re doing, you know? Easier for things to get out of hand. I only have to do one a month, and usually Jared’s really good about respecting the limits I set but, like, shit happens. Brian was working this party, too, you’ve met him.” Michael nods. “Did you know he was a linebacker in high school? Anyway, pulled the guy off of me, and so far we haven’t heard anything from the cops so, like, no harm no foul, right?” Alex shakes his head. “Fucker’s blacklisted now.”

“Shit like this happen a lot?” Michael asks, voice tight.

“No, Michael, I’ve told you, this is really rare.” A strange look comes over Alex’s face, then. “And let’s be really real for a second, okay? It’s not like anything any client is gonna do to me is ever gonna be worse than what happened the first time I had sex, right?”

And at that, Michael slumps down onto the bed, next to Alex. “Shit,” he mutters, and his arm circles Alex’s back, gently. “I… that was your first time?”

Alex’s head snaps up. “Yes, yes of course. You…” He pauses and stares at Michael, incredulous. “You didn’t know that?”

“No!” Michael exclaims. “No, Alex, I didn’t. Damn it,” he’s shaking his head. “That… you shouldn’t have had a first time like that. I didn’t know.”

“It… it was great. Until it wasn’t.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, and they’re quiet for a long time, just holding each other. “Let’s… let’s get you some Neosporin or something.”

“Okay,” Alex says.

***

“Would you ever consider leaving Roswell? Maybe getting a mechanic job here, in L.A.?”

Michael pauses mid-lick.

“Why?”

Alex looks at him. Looks away. “You know.”

Michael looks down at his ice cream. It’s already starting to melt – it has to be a hundred fucking degrees. “No… I _don’t_ know, Alex. You’ve never really said.” Michael shakes his head. “I, I _think_ I know, but…” And fuck, he’s been putting off a conversation like this for so long, too long, because he’s afraid of hearing Alex’s answers. “I mean, you’ve, we’ve never really put a label on this. What we’re doing. I… I have no idea what this is to you, you know?”

Alex sucks in a breath. “I love you, Michael.”

And no one, _no one_ has ever said that to Michael, outside Max and Iz. No one. He drops his ice cream, the whole cone, and tugs Alex in for a hug. “I love you, too.”

***

He’s starting to make plans. He’s actually lined up some interviews at garages. Adelaide’s excited (“ _My rent’s gonna go down, huh, honey?_ ”).

Max and Isobel, though…

“Who even _is_ this guy, Michael?”

Isobel is nodding. “I’ve been out there with you at least five times now, and I’ve never met them. I mean, Greg and I are concerned.”

Michael scoffs. “Oh, you and _Greg?”_

“Dammit, Michael,” Isobel mutters. “Like, I know you said he’s busy, but is he a fucking ghost? Like, at least give me a name.”

“Casper.”

***

He’s already in a sour mood that weekend, and looking back, he thinks that contributes. Like, he knows he can’t blame all his actions on that, but, yeah, he thinks that’s a part of it.

They were supposed to go out, Saturday. He’d been looking forward to it for weeks. But then, last minute…

_“I’m so, so sorry, Michael.”_

_And Michael shrugged, because he understood, he really did._

_“Brian has strep, so obviously…”_

_“Yeah.” Michael blew out a breath. “Thought you already worked a party this month?”_

_“I did. This is a favor, to Jared. And I’m hoping if I do two this month, then maybe next month, I won’t have to do any, and then maybe you and I can go somewhere, together. Maybe head up the coast?”_

_It did sound nice. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. This… this a big party?”_

_Alex had nodded._

_“How many, um, how many guys, from your agency?”_

_Alex bit his lip a little. “Eight, I think.”_

_Michael raised his eyebrows. “Wow.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Michael swallowed a bit. “Okay, well, just… just be safe, okay?”_

_Alex’s face softened, and he kissed Michael’s head._

Michael had called up Iz, after that. Figured he could at least get a free dinner out of it.

It was a fancy sushi place, which he should have fucking expected, and he felt completely out of place. That probably didn’t help, either.

“ _So this boyfriend of yours,” Greg said, “what does he do?”_

_Michael put down the chopsticks that he didn’t know how to use. “He’s in the service industry.”_

_Greg laughed. “That’s a big industry, Michael. Where’s he work?”_

_Michael swallowed. “You know, I don’t really know.”_

_Isobel frowned at him, and Michael knew he needed to get out of there._

_“You know what, this was nice, but I don’t think it’s sitting right. I’m gonna head out.”_

_He clapped Greg on the back, kissed Iz on the head. As he pulled away, she looked him in the eyes, and very seriously mouthed, “What. The. Fuck.”_

And after that he just… just couldn’t stop thinking about it. About Alex at the goddamn sex party, about the marks on his back a few months ago… Like, would it be so bad if he went to the party, too? Just to keep an eye on things, make sure nothing got too crazy. He goes back to the apartment, changes into one of Alex’s nice shirts. It’s a little tight on him, but that could actually be a plus, where he’s going. Alex’s iPad is linked to his phone, and Michael’s able to see the texts from Jared, letting Alex know where to go, and when.

Michael starts having second thoughts in the Uber. Alex… Alex doesn’t really talk much about his job to Michael. Probably wouldn’t be too happy if Michael just showed up unannounced. But then the car’s pulling up to the big house, and the curiosity is running too high, and Michael’s walking around the house, opening a gate with his powers.

The back yard’s a mess of people, most of them half-naked around the pool. Lots of booze, drugs… Michael sees two guys, right on top of each other, on one of the lounge chairs. Neither’s Alex. He exhales and pushes into the house.

There’s music playing, loudly, and smoke is in the air. The lighting’s low, lower than he expects. Michael goes to the very middle of the room, and then he sees him.

Alex is on his knees in the corner of the room, stripped to the waist, back against the wall.

And in front of him, there’s a man. Older. Gripping his hair. And, and…

And fucking his face.

Like, there’s no other way to describe it. He’s pumping his dick down Alex’s throat, to the point where other people are watching. Urging him on. And Alex… Alex is taking it. Greedily. Grinning up at the guy. It’s… it’s filthy. In every sense. Michael… Michael’s never seen anything like it, outside of a porn.

It’s one thing to know, intellectually, that Alex is a sex worker.

It’s another thing to see it.

He knows the minute Alex spots him. It’s like his eyes lose the light, and he’s just staring at Michael, flat and _furious._

And at that instant, Michael wishes he could undo it. Undo his decision to ride out here and sneak into the party. Hell, undo the last five years, the shed. Go back even further and undo ever stealing the cute emo guy’s guitar.

He starts to panic. Feels his heart rate accelerate and his powers surge. Oh god, he can’t lose control here, in this place, with all these people. With Alex. He _can’t._

But Alex is still being held in place by his hair, staring at him, mouth wrapped around another guy’s cock, and Michael’s fucking _losing_ it, and –

He pulls the fire alarm. Reaches out with his mind, and sets it off.

It’s chaos.

People are running everywhere, out the doors, jumping in the pool. Some people aren’t doing anything at all, too blasé or wasted to care. Alex is grabbing him around the arm and pulling him out the door, hard. His shirt’s on inside out. Michael can’t even remember him putting it on.

“Move, Guerin,” he’s saying, through his teeth. Shit. “Can’t believe this. If someone calls the fucking cops, we’re under arrest.”

They’re a few blocks from the house, near a drainage ditch, when Alex reels around and pushes Michael against a tree. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have – “

But Alex isn’t having it, isn’t listening. “It’s been a year. Almost a year. And that whole time, I’ve been waiting for the other fucking shoe to drop, and here it fucking is. God _damn_ it. I should have known better. I _did_ know better.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You!” Alex says, frustrated. “I’m talking about _you,_ Michael.” He shakes his head, and Michael can see that his eyes are bright with tears. “You know… you know the first time we met up again? And we went to In-N-Out? You said, you said no judgement. And, I mean, I thought you were bullshitting. Thought you were just saying that cause you wanted in my pants. And, I mean, I wanted to fuck you, too, so whatever. But then, this kept going, and I thought you were _different_ , but…” Alex pauses to take a gasping breath. He’s trying to keep his emotions in check, but it isn’t working. “But I saw your face in there.” And it’s like the fight leaves him then, because he’s hanging his head, kicking at the grass with his nice shoes. “Only people I know in this industry that have a relationship that actually works are the ones that date other people in the industry. Cause they fucking know what this job is like. Or, or it’s people who have partners with, like, a thing for seeing them with other people. But I never thought that was you.” He looks at Michael. “Now I know it’s not.”

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Michael says, and he means it. “I never should have come to your work without asking you.”

“Then why did you?”

“I just… I was worried! That other party, you came home with scratches all down your back, and you hate working the fucking parties. I just… I just wanted you to be safe. And it’s not like I have anyone I can talk to about this, because you never let me talk to other people about you, and – “

“Wait, what?”

Michael shakes his head. “Dude, Isobel and Max have wanted to know about you for months now, but I keep putting them off. And they hate it. And I hate it. I just… I just wish we could be open about it. Like, I went to dinner with Iz and Greg tonight, and they asked me what you did, and I couldn’t even answer them! Like, I can’t even give them a name! Would I call you Alex or Brent? Like, I just don’t know!” Michael rakes a hand over his face. “And… and you barely talk about your job.”

Alex scoffs.

“Like, I have all these ideas in my mind, about what you do and don’t do, and I think sometimes my, like, fears are way worse than what the reality is.”

Alex is looking at him, with that scary blank face he gets sometimes. “You want to hear about my job?” he asks, flatly.

“Alex…” Michael warns.

Alex sniffs. “Where to start? The summer of truck stop blowjobs when I was 18? Or maybe something more entertaining, like how one of my regulars is an Oscar-winning closet case? Or how about the asshole that always asks for me because I’m the only one in the whole fucking agency willing to – “

“Stop it, Alex,” says Michael. And now he’s crying, too.

“Thought you wanted to hear about my job?”

“Just stop it,” Michael says. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Never should have crashed your job, never should have pulled the fucking fire alarm. Never meant to put you and the other guys on the cops’ radar like – “

“Wait, what?” Alex is shaking his head. “The fire alarm? Michael, you didn’t pull the alarm. You were in the middle of the goddamn room. I saw you.”

Michael freezes.

And Alex, Alex sees him freeze. Sees his face.

“Michael?”

And this is it, isn’t it? Michael’s thought about this moment a lot, even as far back as when he was 18. He always imagined it happening in some heroic way, or even, like, a romantic kind of way, hushed confession sort of thing. Not desperate, broken like this.

“But I… I did set off the fire alarm, Alex.”

Alex shakes his head.

Michael’s staring at him. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been… keeping from you.”

Alex looks so tired. “What?”

“I’m… I can move shit. With my mind.”

Alex laughs. “What?” He shakes his head. “Yeah, fuck you too, Guerin.” He turns around, starts walking away.

“No!” says Michael, and reaches out. With his powers. Whirls him around.

Alex stops, eyes wide. “How…?”

“Think about it, Alex. Think where we’re from. How I was found.”

Michael sees the moment it clicks. “Oh, oh my god. But that’s not… that’s impossible.”

Michael lets his power move through him, lets it rattle the branches of the tree directly above Alex. He looks up. “It _is_ possible. If… if I’m angry, or overwhelmed, I can lose control of them. That’s why, the fire alarm…”

Alex’s face is still wet with tears, but his eyes are dry now. His jaw is clenched. “Max and Isobel?”

Michael nods. “Yeah.” And, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? “That’s the real reason I stayed in Roswell. Isobel was blacking out and… doing things. Not acting like herself. She…” Michael _has_ to tell him, he thinks he’s needed to say this to someone for _years._ “She killed Rosa. Her and Jasmine and Kate. And we covered it up. But, but she thinks it was me! Because she can’t remember it! And that’s…that’s why I couldn’t leave her.”

Alex is just staring at him, saying nothing. He reaches for his phone. Slowly. “I’m gonna call us a ride. And then, when we get back to my place, I am going to set a timer for ten minutes. And you are gonna get your shit and clear out. And I don’t ever want to hear from you again.”

“Alex!”

“ _Stop_ ,” Alex commands, and his tone is so, so cold. “Fuckin’ Rosa…” and the tears are back, then. “ _Dammit_ Michael.”

Michael packs up his little duffel bag without a word. He looks for Alex on the way out, but he’s nowhere to be found. Adelaide’s out for the evening, too.

He starts walking, walks far, probably too far before calling Izzy.

“Izzy,” he says, and she must hear something in his voice.

“ _Michael? Are you okay?”_ A pause. “ _Did… did something happen between you and your guy?”_

 _“_ Yeah. _”_

***

It’s been a hell of a month. Like old times, really. A few fistfights, a few threats from DeLuca, a few random fucks.

He’s lounging in the Chavez County lockup now, staring at Max’s disappointed face.

“Liked you better when you had the boyfriend.”

“That makes two of us.”

Max snorts a bit, pulls a chair just outside the bars. “You know, I always wondered about that.”

Michael rolls his eyes, heaves a sigh. “About _what_?”

“You,” he replies. “And guys.”

Michael cocks an eyebrow.

“Since senior year, actually. Alex.”

Michael freezes. “Al-Alex?”

Max looks a little confused for a moment, as if he’s misread something. “Yeah. Alex? Alex Manes? He and Kyle had that fight at prom, and you… you never got involved in stuff like that, like, _ever_ , but that night you just, like, jumped right in, and then the two of you shared this _look_ and… I dunno, Michael, but it made me wonder. Like if there was something going on.” He shrugs.

Michael’s quiet. “Me and Alex, huh?” He shakes his head. “Nothing gets by you, Max. Maybe you should try for detective.”

***

_Knock-knock._

Fuck.

Michael rolls over, looks at his phone. 10:32am.

_Knock-knock._

He’d swear, but there’s a chance it might be Mr. Foster, and he doesn’t want to piss the man off.

_Knock-knock._

Michael flings open the door. “What?”

It’s Alex.

Alex is there. Looking, as always, like a goddamn dream. Like he certainly doesn’t belong here, on this dusty ranch. With Michael.

Michael swallows. “What do you want?” And then, realizing, “And what are you doing here? In Roswell? Your dad – “

“Is in D.C. till next month.” Alex looks almost sheepish, saying it. “I, um, called the base. Pretended I was my older brother, Flint.” He jams his hands in his pockets, squints up at Michael. “Can, can we talk?”

“About what?”

Alex bites his lip a little. “Lots of things. But first, um, Rosa?”

And Michael sighs, deeply, and gestures for him to sit down in one of the lawn chairs.

Alex asks his questions. All of them. And Michael answers.

It’s almost an hour later when Alex shakes his head and stares at Michael. “I’m… I’m not okay with all of this. I loved Rosa. And Liz, and Arturo…” He rubs at his face tiredly. “But, dammit, Michael, I love you too.”

And at that, Michael’s head whips up.

Alex laughs weakly. “Shit, well… didn’t mean to lead with that, but, yeah. I love you, Michael. I’ve really missed you this last month. But, um, I don’t know if it’s enough that I love you.” Michael feels his heart sink. “I mean, I’m _hoping_ it will be enough, but… but I think there’s some stuff we need to talk about first, before we can figure that out.”

Michael wets his lips, nods. “Um, yeah.” Before Alex can open his mouth to say more, Michael stands up. “You, you kind of crashed my morning here, Alex. Didn’t expect to get interrogated before noon, and I could use some coffee. Want some?”

Alex softens a bit, nods. “Okay.”

Michael retreats to the Airstream and busies himself with making coffee for the two of them. It gives him a chance to really breathe, try to wrap his mind around the fact that Alex is here, in Roswell, the place he’d sworn he’d never see again. Like… that has to mean something, right?

He carries out the two battered little tin mugs full of coffee and, just to test the waters, uses his powers to float one over to Alex. Alex’s eyebrows quirk up, in that almost comical way, but he doesn’t say anything, just takes it and sips. “Thank you,” he says, after a moment.

“You’re welcome.”

They’re quiet for a while, just sipping on their cheap coffee until Alex finally speaks. “I came out here today because, first, I had to know more about the role you played. With Rosa. So thank you, um, for being willing to talk to me about that.” Michael nods, tightly. “I… I get why you kept all of this a secret. I wish you would have trusted me with it, earlier, but I do get it.”

Alex takes a little sip of his coffee, then cradles the mug between his hands. “Other reason I came out here, is that I’ve been thinking about how we left things.” He suddenly looks right at Michael, eyes sharp. “I’m still angry that you came to that party. Like, I was working. And you set off that fire alarm. There could have been a lot of trouble from that, you know?”

Michael hangs his head a bit. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”

Alex nods. Bites his lip a little. “I believe you. But some of the other stuff…” He sighs. “I, um, I talked to Jared. About the parties. About my concerns with them. We are trying to figure out ways to tighten things up a bit, so it’s safer. Fewer risks. And he said that, given how much I bring in, I only have to do eight a year now. So…” He sighs. “The reality is, Michael, I’ve been thinking about my next steps for a while. Even before we reconnected. Like, this industry… I know I kind of have a limited shelf life, right?” Michael looks at him, a little disbelieving. “No, it’s true. Hot young guys are kind of a dime a dozen, out in L.A.”

“Not like you.”

Alex scoffs a bit. “You’re biased, okay?” He gives a little half-smile. “Sweet, but biased. Anyway, there’s not _that_ much longer I can keep doing this, at least not for my current clientele, or my current asking price. And the industry’s changing, you know? There are all these sex apps now, where people are doing all kinds of shit for _free_ , so that tends to change the sort of client who seeks out an agency like mine. It’s usually people who are really, really wanting professionalism. Or, um, discretion. Or, honestly, can’t find anyone for free to satisfy their needs, cause they’re a little too out there. I mean, trust me, plenty of people just want the straight up sex, still, but I think it’s changing some, you know?”

Michael doesn’t know, but he nods anyway.

“It just… it’s just made me think. Like, I’ve been doing this for almost six years now. But when I think of what I want to be doing six years from now? I dunno… this isn’t necessarily it. Like, some people, they stay in the industry, shift roles, that sort of thing, but…” Alex studies Michael. “You coming back in my life. It, it made me remember who I was before I went out there, you know? Who I was at 17.”

Alex is quiet, then, but Michael senses there’s more he needs to say. “I was pissed, after the party. Felt like you were finally showing your true colors, about my job,” Alex finally says, voice low. “But I’ve had a month to think about it, and…” he trails off, actually laughs a little, “I’m kind of a hypocrite.”

Michael stares at him, confused.

“Yeah,” Alex nods. “Because when I think of your work, at the junkyard, at the ranch, like, I respect it, Michael. I’m not, not gonna fucking look _down_ on you for earning a living. But I do… I do want more for you. Cause I remember who you were, too. At 17. And I think…. I think I want that for both of us.”

Michael is trying to breathe. “What are you saying, Manes?”

Alex considers him. “I’m saying that… I think we are better together. Both of us. I’m saying that I want… different things for us than what we have now. And, like, I know they can’t happen right away. I mean, I’m still making really good money, and I’m not planning to change industries any time soon. But when I’m with you, it makes me feel like if I wanted to, I, I could. And I want you to feel like you could do what you wanted, too. Whether that’s working as a mechanic or, like, going back to school, or… whatever, really. But, um, together.”

“Yeah, Alex,” Michael hears himself saying. “Yeah.”

“And, um, I need to apologize.” Michael tilts his head. “I’m sorry I kept us such a big secret. That… that had to have been hard. I mean, I know how close you are to Isobel and Max, and now I’m realizing even more why that is, and you never even gave them a name. I mean… I shouldn’t have asked that of you, Michael. I’ve, I’ve gotten so used to keeping things quiet, cause of my dad, my job, that I guess I didn’t think about how that would affect you. And I’m sorry.”

“That… thank you. Means a lot to hear you say it,” Michael says.

“If, if you’d be open to it, we could all have lunch together, while I’m in town.”

Michael’s eyes go wide. “Seriously?”

Alex nods. “Yeah. Um, I still probably shouldn’t be strolling through downtown Roswell, in case word gets back to my dad, but, if you picked us up some takeout from the Crashdown? Arturo’s enchiladas?”

Michael smiles, a real smile. “I’d love that.” Alex smiles back, looking relieved, happy. “And… and I love you, Alex. Thank you for coming out here. I didn’t… didn’t think I’d ever be seeing you again, honestly.” And at that, Michael feels a rush of heat, of emotion. “I, um, I lived through that once. And I’m so glad I don’t have to do it again.”

“Oh, Michael,” Alex says, and then he’s rushing to him, pressing hands against him, lips.

The lawn chair fucking collapses.

“Damn!” Michael exclaims. Alex laughs.

“Well, I take it that’s a sign.”

“To what?” Michael says. “Get lunch?”

Alex cocks his head to the side. “To take things inside,” he says, gesturing to the Airstream. “You know, work up an appetite? _Then_ get lunch.”’

Michael smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I am also on tumblr (aewriting).


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